


Tomorrow You'll Be World Away - Act II

by barefootwits



Series: Tomorrow You'll Be Worlds Away [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-11 21:37:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barefootwits/pseuds/barefootwits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The wedding of Cosette and Marius. The reception held on the Pont des Arts. </p>
<p>Grantaire doesn't want all the memories. He just really wants a drink, but Cosette has other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go!! Apologies for the lag between Act I and Act II. I hope this part is enjoyed as much as Act I was.
> 
> Now you get Grantaire's POV. 
> 
> Once again, I only have limited knowledge about Paris. Every location named actually exists, aside from the cathedral, which only contains a brief scene anyway. 
> 
> Thank you everyone for reading up to this point!! Extra thanks to all who have commented.

By the time the wedding rolls around, he’s seven months sober, starting from the night of the engagement party that he didn’t attend. Cosette was ruthless when he hadn’t shown up, and only a small bit sympathetic when he broke down and told her why. She’d forgiven him, after a lot of apologizing, but made him promise to get himself back on track again after the relapse.

Grantaire wishes he hadn’t made the promise, now that he’s in line to rent a bike. When the lock is passed over to him, he clutches it hard and stares at it for a long time as he pushes the bike away with him. 

It’s hard and pathetic, knowing he barely had the thing that made his world brighter than it ever had been, and that he purposefully didn’t let himself keep him. 

He’s been dreading this wedding. Especially the reception.

Grantaire gets more than a few curious looks thrown his way as he stuffs away the lock for the bike and swings onto it in his grey suit. The material stretches, but he knew it’d get at least somewhat wrinkled anyway, so he doesn’t fuss with it much. He’s too caught up in the ache under his chest and the knowledge that there will be plenty of champagne to make it all easier, which he won’t even be allowed to touch.

Up until a week ago, when he remembered the wedding because Cosette started texting him asking his thoughts on if he was _positively-absolutely-one-hundred-percent-artist’s-pledge-sure_ green was a good early-autumn colour scheme, he’d honestly been doing alright without alcohol. Before the engagement party, he’d kicked the habit for almost a year, but he’d fallen apart as soon as he left his discovered Apollo standing on the bridge. The first bar he’d come to, he’d rushed inside until the owners forced him to stumble back out.

It hadn’t helped quiet the anguished voice inside his head telling him he’d never find even a taste of that brief hope and life ever again.

But it didn’t stop him from aching for a bottle between his fingers.

The ceremony is happening in a gorgeous cathedral, paid for by both Marius’ grandfather and Cosette’s adoptive father. The reception is taking place along the Pont des Arts, probably at least twice as expensive to have blocked off for the social event, if not three or four times more.

If that night hadn’t happened, Grantaire would applaud Cosette for her brilliance in selection of location.

It did happen, though, and he’ll never forget it. He doesn’t want to walk along the bridge and find the lock with its promise that just isn’t ever going to come true. 

And he knows that he’ll end up finding it even so, whether or not he tries. 

He’d almost begged Cosette’s pardon so he wouldn’t have to show up. In the end, he couldn’t, but as he cycles up to the cathedral, seeing the flow of sharply dressed people coming in and out of the gigantic doors, he desperately wishes he were back in his studio painting and flinging brushes around, miles away from here. 

Cosette’s father spies him as he’s morosely clicking the lock of his bike into place around a pillar. He seems to take one look at Grantaire and motions for him to follow the old man inside, where Valjean tugs Grantaire into a small room and helps to straighten up his suit again. 

“There,” Valjean says as he straightens Grantaire’s tie. His eyes are warm and Grantaire has always found it difficult not to return the smile that always seems to be behind them since Cosette became so happy. Happy with Marius. 

She and her father have sort of been the whole reason he got himself onto a better path. He met Cosette a while ago in his still-life drawing class, which she had been a model for. After a few weeks of him being the only one not at all shy about talking to the girl he’d drawn naked, she’d invited him to go with her to a meeting on campus for recovering alcoholics. She hadn’t told him at the time that she wasn’t an alcoholic herself. When he found out that she’d just taken it upon herself to look up the meetings and had gone because she wanted to support him, without knowing him much at all, that’s what made him admit it was a problem and want to try to quit. 

And then Grantaire had gotten to know her father when he’d called her house one night during a real low, on the verge of spending everything in his wallet on absinthe and vodka. It was Valjean who answered because she was out on a date. Instead of having Grantaire call back later, he’d stayed on the phone talking him through things for several hours. 

They’d both been disappointed by his relapse, but seeing him sob about not being able to have the happiness Cosette had found with Marius because he was certain he’d mess it up anyway had made them both want to simply hug him. 

Valjean does hug him now, and gives him a final glance-over. “Green was the right choice,” he comments, seeing Grantaire’s leaf green shirt under his heather grey vest, as well as the same-shade pocket square he’d re-tucked. He knows that Grantaire had essentially made the choice for Cosette, it being the only thing about the wedding details that she hadn’t been able to decide upon. 

Grantaire gives him a pleased hum. “It will be a stunning ceremony,” he says, which makes Valjean laugh softly in agreement. He lets Grantaire return out into the main hall of the cathedral, where the artist lingers in search of anyone he might know that would have also been invited. He doesn’t expect to recognize many people, and most are already lining up the pews in the main room, but he wishes just one familiar face would show up, at least.

He turns to sit on the steps of the stairway, and then he stiffens as he sees a shine off of golden hair. 

The next second, he’s jostled by a few of what look to be college guys his age, and there’s no one where he’d been looking before. 

He backtracks into that room that he’d been in with Cosette’s father before, which is now empty. That’s where he stays, shaking his head harshly to get that glint out of his head, fighting the urging tug of his mind wanting him to go and find a glass of anything they might be handing out. He tells himself to quit thinking about it, and _him_ , but it’s pretty futile. Only when he checks his phone and sees that he’s behind by ten minutes to find a seat does he take several huge breaths, then leaves to find one.

Watching Cosette already standing at the front next to Marius, exemplifying joy and prettiness as she all but rushes through her vows just to kiss him, it’s a lot easier for Grantaire to just focus on nothing but how happy he is for her. He also is a little worried she’s going to murder him for missing the exchange of rings, since he appeared only after the ushers and her bridesmaids had seated themselves as well. They were breaking the tradition of standing with the bride and groom because Marius and Cosette really just wanted it to be _their_ day.

There are seemingly thousands of pictures taken once they’re legally pronounced husband and wife, and Grantaire is among the first to step out into the entry hall again, just to let all the other guests out of the pews so they can make their way to the love-locked bridge for the reception. He’s starting to think about asking Cosette if she’d hate him for going ahead and leaving, now that he’s made it through the actual ceremony, but that thought is cut short when she taps him on the shoulder from behind. 

She’s without Marius, which surprises him briefly, but he grabs her up in a hug, careful of her dress, and enjoys her breathless, overwhelmed laughing until he lets her go again. 

“I’m so glad you didn’t miss the _whole_ thing,” she says with knowing eyes, and he looks ashamed for a moment before she takes his hand. “You can do me a favor in return for it.” 

Grantaire raises his eyebrows at her, but can’t help smirking in response to the mischief that’s flooded across her expression. “What sort of favor, Mme. Pontmercy?” 

She lets out a little gasp and beams at his words, but composes herself quickly. “I need you to keep somebody company at the reception,” she tells him. He’d laugh, but he can see that she’s completely serious.

“Cosette-“ 

“It’s not a set-up!” She ensures him, though she smirks afterwards. “Unless you end up liking him. He does happen to be insanely attractive.” Grantaire rolls his eyes at her. She ignores it and keeps trying. “He’s just an aloof sort of guy. Marius is worried that he’ll end up leaving early or something, and I’m worried he’ll turn my wedding reception into some sort of political rally. Please, could you talk to him at least?”

Grantaire frowns. “This is one of Marius’ friends from that activist group he’s part of, isn’t it? Cosette, I’m the last person you should be asking.”

Cosette matches his frown, but makes it something fierce. “Either go and spend the next handful of hours with Enjolras, or I’ll sit you next to my father and make sure he keeps you around to help clean everything up.”

It’s not the best threat she’s ever come up with, but Grantaire was stilled before she even got to that part.

“Enjolras?”

“Yeah. He’s sort of the leader of their group. Actually, not even sort of. He is.”

Grantaire starts laughing. Cosette blinks at him for a few seconds, startled, and then frightened at the way Grantaire’s eyebrows have tugged down and close together and his face shows so much distress, even through his laughter. She reaches forward to put a hand on his arm, which seems to help, because he slowly quiets until he’s just staring at her.

He doesn’t need to say anything. Her eyes widen in sudden comprehension.

“OhmyGOD, Grantaire!”

Suddenly, he has an armful of bride giving him a quick hug, then she leans back, looking at him like he’s the dumbest thing she’s ever seen. “You never told me the guy’s name, and if you had, I could have had you two reconnected so easily!”

He hadn’t shown her the sketch of Enjolras, either. The one Enjolras had interrupted him in drawing with a knock to that window. That stayed hidden away in his notebook, in attempt for him to not stare at it, which didn’t work most days.

“How was I supposed to know?” Grantaire asks, voice mild, clearly in disbelief. “To me, he was just this perfect, random stranger that I was foolishly in love with the second I saw him. It wasn’t something I could _believe_ in. It also wouldn’t have changed the fact that he doesn’t live here.” 

He officially is the dumbest thing Cosette’s ever seen. “He lives fifteen minutes away from Marius’ university. In the same area as us. You just assumed your dream guy lived really far away. Oh, Grantaire,” she sighs, and he just stands there, not knowing how to react. 

Cosette reacts for him, pushing him towards the doors, where almost everyone has already left. There’s only Marius waiting there, with his grandfather, Valjean, and his best man, a guy with dark waves like his own, but wider eyes and constantly happy looking. 

Grantaire only just manages to reach out and stop himself against the stair banister before she pushes him over to join them. “Cosette, he’s probably forgotten everything that happened. It was one day over half a year ago. Don’t make me do his, because I don’t think I can without…” He trails off, because she’ll get it, and saying it aloud always makes it harder to resist.

She’s adamant now, though. “Enjolras doesn’t drink, so you won’t be tempted. You both are giving speeches, too, I’ve heard, so there’s also the simple fact that I would drown you in the Seine if you toasted my marriage while drunk off your ass.” She pauses and tilts her head at him, her large eyes silently encouraging, full of belief in him that’s always been there and has always baffled him. “Grantaire, you can do this, I know you can. It’ll be the perfect time. He’ll definitely see you, too, so you really can’t avoid him. If all the stuff you told me about that day with him was true, he’s not going to let you go again without knowing he’ll be able to find you.” 

Grantaire takes a huge breath, then relents. He doesn’t even have to say anything and Cosette grins radiantly, tugging him along to join the last group on the way to the reception. The guy with hair like his, Courfeyrac, talks to him a little, but as soon as they arrive, he has to sit at the long table in the middle of the bridge with the happy couple, maid of honor, and both guardians. 

Before she sits down, Cosette motions Grantaire back toward a table right near the fencing on one side of the bridge. When he turns to it, he sees gleaming blond hair, statuesque features, and the pair of lips that he’d never wanted to stop kissing. His feet feel weird and heavy when he moves them. 

The table seems forever away, but he’s eventually standing unnoticed on one side, a little behind Enjolras, who’s concentrated on his phone and nothing else. Grantaire’s heart is going crazy like it was when Enjolras had knocked on the window between them at the café and spoken to him the first time. 

He tries, but doesn’t get a single word out. The best he can do is backstep several paces until he bumps into an empty chair a few tables back. That’s where he settles in, trying to calm himself. The speeches start to begin and Enjolras lifts his head, giving his attention to the newlyweds. 

Grantaire can’t give his attention to anything but Enjolras. 

Yet there may as well be glass between them again.


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You have to go talk to him.”
> 
> “What am I supposed to say? I left him standing here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little more involved than the last chapter, and I very, very much enjoyed writing it. I hope all of you enjoy reading it!! As always, thank you for reading and for leaving comments.

Courfeyrac, as Marius’ best man, stands up with a gigantic grin and gives his speech first. It apparently is hilarious, because the whole bridge is a chorus of laughter throughout it and Grantaire is the only one who isn’t following a single word. 

Afterwards, as the first of Marius’ ushers is taking the microphone, Grantaire gets a text, and it’s the first time he manages to look away from Enjolras. Very reluctantly.

**From Cosette:** _You look like you’re at a funeral, not a wedding. Go sit with him, you coward. You have nothing to lose!_

But he does. The moment he’d met Enjolras, he’d lost his heart to the man. If they’re not reunited, he won’t have to let go a second time. It’s safer. He won’t drink himself to death this way. 

Instead of replying, he glances up to the long table in front of all the others. Cosette is watching him, like he expected, trying to look stern, but not managing it as well as she usually does because of the complete happiness she’s feeling. He gives her a small, jerky shake of his head and mouths, “I can’t.”

A bride really shouldn’t ever look as sad as she does when she realizes what he’s said. 

Grantaire can’t keep seeing that, so he drops his head and looks down at the table. In the center, where his eyes land, there are padlocks, markers, and a sign that reads: _For the attending couples, please join the bride and groom tonight at sunset and lock your promises to each other onto the bridge forever._

He has to slam his eyes shut or risk getting up and just leaving. He can’t do that to Cosette. She doesn’t know about the stupid bike lock that he had to pay a fine for ‘loosing.’ He’d given her almost no details because he’d been so drunk and simply couldn’t talk about more than how perfect Enjolras was, and how Grantaire had saved Apollo from being brought down by someone completely not of any worth. When she and her father had managed to sober him up, all he’d say then was apologies. 

This isn’t her fault. He just can’t keep that promise, for all the same reasons he made it in the first place. It wasn’t ever supposed to be possible to keep. 

He wasn’t ever supposed to find Enjolras again.

But here he is, and Grantaire’s eyes snap back open when he hears his voice coming in over the speaker system. They land on the chair those few tables away that Enjolras now isn’t in, then pass over the rest of the crowd to the front. It’s not at all hard to find him, because he’s as striking, breathtaking, and _beautiful_ as he had been when Grantaire had spotted him in that café. People had run into him when he’d stopped in his tracks, then had turned around just to sit and try to draw Enjolras, forgetting about anywhere else he'd been headed. 

The sketch he’d managed to do before he’d weirded Enjolras out enough to make him speak up has been stared at so long Grantaire can close his eyes and see the toss of golden hair, and the marble face he’s convinced himself he dreamed he touched and kissed. 

That drawing is only lines on paper now that Enjolras is in front of him again. 

As Enjolras speaks, Grantaire is suddenly completely focused on what’s being said, but mostly because of the way it sounds, how the words come out over the speakers from Enjolras’ lips, and the way those lips move. Every sentence is perfectly phrased and thought-out, throwing Grantaire back to the way that they spoke together for all those hours over all those articles he hadn’t given a shit about, only brought up because he wanted Enjolras to talk to him forever. Even when Grantaire threw every counter he could in the way of Enjolras’ arguments, he’d follow with an elegant response, voice strong and crisp with determination. 

Just like it is now. But, there’s also something else, and Grantaire loses all the breath he has in his lungs when he places what it is. With every congratulation and sharp observation of the love between Marius and Cosette, Enjolras’ voice carries a barely-there note of loss and longing.

When he comments on the marvelous decision to use the bridge for the reception, Enjolras’ eyes dart to the fence, to all the locks. He jerks it away again, quickly, and Grantaire has to do the same, because his eyes had followed, trying in vain to find what they both know is there. 

Grantaire has to try to calm the spreading sparks lighting up every part of him. 

He has to try very, very hard. 

It doesn’t work. 

Enjolras hasn’t forgotten. 

Which terrifies Grantaire. 

And yet, there’s a specific spark, one that he let die before he’d even really grown up, and only felt seven months ago before he had to drown it. It’s sharper than ever. 

Some sort of hope. Something like belief. 

He doesn’t even wish he had a glass of champagne in his hand when Enjolras closes his speech by prompting a toast. 

No, that only comes when he has to wait through the speeches of Marius’ _five_ other ushers to text Cosette and beg her to meet him off to the side, as far away from Enjolras’ table as possible. It takes her half an hour more to break away from her new husband and stream through the crowd of guests, so when she reaches him, he tugs her forward and keeps his hands on her shoulders to dissuade anyone from approaching to steal her from him. 

“I’m going to admit that I’ve never had one clue why you’ve ever believed in me-“

“You don’t _have_ to admit that,” Cosette interrupts him dryly, but her eyebrows lift curiously even so. 

Grantaire scowls at her, but continues to get to his point. “I just really need to hear all the reasons you’ve already given me why someone would ever try or want to love me, and I’ll do my best this time.” 

Her eyes suddenly fill with tears and she stifles a squeal as she gives a little bounce and takes his hands. “Grantaire, there are so many reasons. But you _don’t_ need to hear those right now.”

Grantaire blinks at her.

“What you need is to hear how Enjolras has been convincing himself you were a fairy tale, in effect making himself miserable, incapable of getting anything done, and making all of his friends very worried.” She moves a hand to Grantaire’s mouth to shush him when he starts to scoff. “Marius told me that he refused the internship he’s been wanting for the last six years because it made him think of you.” 

“What?”

“What?! It’s Grantaire? That’s who Enjolras fell in love with?”

Marius steps up from behind Grantaire, moving over from Courfeyrac and a two of his ushers in a discussion just behind him, and his expression starts out shocked, then turns into a wide, over-excited grin. “That’s unbelievable!” His voice is an excited whisper, and Grantaire fights between being annoyed at him for cutting into the conversation, and being appreciative about the care he takes to make sure nobody else overhears.

Cosette shoots a glare at Marius that he doesn’t see, but it’s all over her tone when she speaks to Grantaire, “Marius didn’t tell me anything about Enjolras until I mentioned that I tried to get you to sit with him.”

“I thought he was going to leave. He gave our group a vague story a while back to explain what’s been wrong with him, but I heard him tell Combeferre this morning that he didn’t think he could set foot on this bridge,” Marius explains. “I just told my darling lark, and Cosette told me she could fix it, but... I’m sorry, Grantaire, I only know you through Cosette and never would have guessed-“

“Who would have?” Grantaire responds, shrugging off the apology. His mind is still focused on something else. “I don’t believe he turned down his internship with that magazine.”

Marius tilts his head slightly and nods earnestly. “It’s true.” 

Grantaire looks past Marius’ shoulder, searching for Enjolras, but he doesn’t find him before his eyes are captured by Cosette’s. She’s fought back her tears, and now she just looks overwhelmingly pleased for him. He remembers she has his hands in hers when she squeezes them. 

“You have to go talk to him.”

“What am I supposed to say? I left him standing here.”

“And you broke your own heart because of it.”

Grantaire at least forces himself to laugh at that, but it’s small, and shaky. “I didn’t break it, I lost it.”

Cosette bites her lip to keep her smile from blinding him. “Then go find it again.” 

It sounds so easy, but it’s not. He has to squeeze her hands this time and take several deep breaths, and still ends up shaking his head. “This is terrifying.”

Because she’s wonderful, and she’s always been his biggest support on the planet, Cosette gets that mischievous look on her face that he’s come to know better than any of her other expressions. She leans in a bit, but doesn’t really lower her voice, to say, “Marius was so nervous when he tried to propose to me that he couldn’t speak. I basically did it for him.”

“Cosette!” Marius gasps, a flush filling his face enough to hide his freckles. 

“Thank god he didn’t do it in public!” Cosette adds, letting go of Grantaire in order to latch onto her husband, looking up at him, full of love. She pulls him down for a flustered kiss, then looks back over to Grantaire. 

She encouragingly shoves at him. “I know that if you do this, it will be the best thing that could possibly happen to you. I’m baffled over how it happened, but you and Enjolras fell in love, R. Or you did and he will, at least. _Go on. Please!_ I want to finally see you happy.”

It’s enough to send him in the right direction. Grantaire has to step around her and Marius, but gets pulled back immediately for a hug from them both, before they push him off again to search for Enjolras. It’s hard to see through the crowd, because there are people standing everywhere, walking up and down the length of the bridge from the tables to where the food is spread out. Anyone sitting down is mostly obscured. 

He spends several minutes wandering around looking for a gleam of golden hair. But after what feels like over fifteen minutes have passed, he begins to worry that Enjolras might have actually left. He starts looking harder, in a little bit of distress, until he finds himself actually climbing up the fence railings a little for the smallest improvement in his view. 

And there he is.

At a different table than the one he’d been at before, right in the center of the bridge and surrounded by people, Enjolras is sitting with one other person. He’s holding one of the locks that have been lying in the center of the table, looking at it sadly and shaking his head at whatever his friend is saying to him. 

Grantaire keeps this image in his head and his eyes on trained in that direction as he climbs down. He loses sight of Enjolras again almost immediately, but he knows where he’s going. He tries to weave through the crowd to get there, but ends up pushing his way through. 

Like before, he ends up behind Enjolras, trying to fight down the shaking he’s begun to feel. It’s a lot harder to do when he hasn’t been prompted, but it’s a chance, just like the first time he yelled it, and he manages to just breathe it out.

“Mind if I join you?”

Enjolras’ friend, sitting beside him and not hearing Grantaire above the chatter of everyone else, falls silent instead at the way Enjolras stiffens. 

“And this time I know you’ve heard me, so I’ll keep standing until you say no.”

Enjolras turns around completely in his chair. He stares at Grantaire for so long that it’s painful, then draws in a huge breath, just to get out, “R.” And, “Hi.” He starts to stand up, but Grantaire subconsciously, unwillingly takes a step back, and he pauses. 

Grantaire’s whole body feels like it’s vibrating and he can’t keep his heartbeat from trying to escape his chest. He doesn’t know if he should say something, or just walk away, but he couldn’t do either anyway, because he doesn’t know how to, now. Now that Enjolras is right in front of him again, the only thing he knows how to do is stare. 

He expects Enjolras to say something, but he doesn’t. He stares as much as Grantaire does, and Grantaire could die from the way his whole body is shaking with nerves, he must be dying, really, this would never happen to him, he’s not supposed to end up with a happy ending. Nobody is supposed to want him.

And Enjolras just won’t _say anything._ His friend even coughs. 

It’s too much. 

Grantaire steps back, shifts so he can get around the nearest table, and bolts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter is definitely the best. Just sayin'. 
> 
> ;D


	3. Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire tries to run, but only gets so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should just write "FLUFF" in the summary and leave it at that, because this chapter... yeah. This was my favourite chapter to write. I really wanted it to mirror the last chapter in Act I, and I'm really happy with how it turned out.
> 
> I know that I could have pulled this out much more than I have, and given it far more detail and time to develop, but I wanted to give this fandom a fic that isn't a standalone, and also isn't too long to sit and read in an hour or two, and isn't part of a series that seemingly has no end in sight. There aren't that many shorter, multi-part fics in this fandom, and I know that sometimes I just want to have something long enough to pull me in, but short enough that I can read it all in one go. Hopefully this can be that for anyone who reads it!! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has given me support on this fic. All those who have left comments or given kudos, it really does mean a lot.

Several people call Grantaire’s name as he rushes toward the nearest end of the bridge, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow at all. His feet keep taking him away. He can’t do this. It’s too much. It’s not real. 

It’ll be a mistake. 

Some people start to even grab at him, but he yanks away, so forcefully at one point that he struggles out of his blazer and leaves it in the grip of whoever tried to detain him. A glance over his shoulder tells him it was Valjean, watching him run away in bewilderment and concern. But it’s just a glance and it’s not going to stop him. Cosette couldn’t even stop him at this point.

Grantaire feels like he should run forever, until one hand closes over his wrist. 

One hand, then an arm reaches around his waist, and he’s pulled back against a solid chest, knees momentarily giving out. 

He’s caught. 

Grantaire lets them stay that way because he knows it’s Enjolras who’s got him this time. He just pulls loose enough to turn around, facing his Apollo, and finds himself shaking his head. He doesn’t even know what for. It could be him trying to say he can’t do this. Or he might just be telling Enjolras not to let him go.

Enjolras doesn’t. He looks into Grantaire’s eyes, pulls his lower lip into his mouth as he takes a huge breath, and gives Grantaire a few minutes until his head stills and he isn’t leaning back against the hand at his back like he’ll take off again if it’s pulled away. Then Enjolras starts walking backwards, bringing Grantaire along with him. Grantaire slowly, slowly follows. 

Most of the guests still aren’t concerned by what’s happening, only giving them a few curious glances, but there are faces of those who know either of them turned to watch, and that’s enough people. Grantaire resolutely keeps his eyes on Enjolras’ hands that go from laying softly against his sides, to gripping his nice shirt in bunches at his waist, and raises his own hands to Enjolras’ forearms between them without thinking about it. 

They step back towards the middle of the bridge, and Enjolras keeps glancing to the side before he seems to find what he wants and stops. Grantaire doesn’t want to look away from him, but he turns his head down, and it takes him mere seconds to spot the lock from that night.

_Enjolras remembered where it is._

“R,” he starts, “R, please, I-”

Grantaire isn’t astute enough with words to define the noise that leaves his mouth. “You don’t even know my name.”

Enjolras’ eyes waver a little, looking into Grantaire’s. “I know, but I want you to tell me.”

There’s a second or two where Grantaire expects Enjolras to continue, to explain why he wants to know at all. To confirm or deny to him everything Cosette told him about how miserable he’s apparently been, and about not accepting that internship, or bring up anything about that night, but he doesn’t. All he does is wait, and Grantaire realizes, because they’re standing so close to each other, that Enjolras is hardly breathing. 

He has to force out what Enjolras is waiting for. “Grantaire.”

As soon as he’s said it, the second his name has passed his lips, Enjolras repeats it. Grantaire didn’t know his name could sound so soft and rare. And Enjolras even huffs a soft laugh as he comprehends the single letter that was all Grantaire had given him before. Enjolras even looks a little frustrated, probably thinking he should’ve figured it out. 

Grantaire doesn’t know if he’s glad that he didn’t, or if he wishes he had. 

He’s so nervous, feeling like the importance of anything he’s ever done is now nothing. But he forces what he wants to be a smile. It’s not as easy as it should be, feels heavy on his face, and falls after too long, and Enjolras is looking at him with desperation all over his face, like he’s trying to figure this out, and it’s probably just the same as how Grantaire is looking at Enjolras himself.

They both take sharp breaths and they both speak at once, “I can’t believe-“ 

They both stop, and Grantaire looks down until Enjolras cups his chin to force it back up. Then he covers Grantaire’s mouth, leans in, and goes off. “I can’t believe I was stupid enough to just let you leave me standing here. I don’t understand at all why you wouldn’t give me a way to keep in touch with you.” His voice is firm, but then it softens, quiets. “If you were scared, then, you have to know I was, too. I don’t act the way I did that day. I don’t… I’m actually saying this… ‘I don’t know,’ is what I said to you when you asked if I’d ever been in love…” 

Enjolras must feel how Grantaire tries to draw in air sharply against his palm and lowers his hand, but only to draw it down to the side of Grantaire’s neck, fingers just in his hair. He leans in, and sighs, “By the end of the night, I could have given you a more certain answer, but you didn’t let me.”

In the gap of time Enjolras gives him to reply, Grantaire tries to say something, tries to gather any words he can, but ends up just staring at Enjolras, then looking down at the lock and reaching over to it, brushing his fingers over it like he might be trying to remind Enjolras what he’d written on it. Maybe reminding himself, too.

Enjolras’ reaches one hand over to it, too, but Grantaire takes it back and replaces it where it was on his waist because he liked it there. It’s completely involuntary. 

It’s apparently a very good move. Because Enjolras steps in a little closer. 

“If you think there’s any way I’m letting you leave me here again, I must warn you that the only way it’s going to happen is if I push you over the railings.” 

Grantaire laughs easily, finds himself nodding, finds himself relaxing, and finds himself feeling that belief he’d been full of that night, before he drank it away. He still bites his lip, drawing his hands down to Enjolras’ wrists, then finding his hands. “Are you sure? I’m-“

“I’ve lived through the worst seven months of my life because I met you once,” Enjolras cuts in, voice clipped, while his words are thick with meaning. 

“You turned down that internship…” Grantaire murmurs. He meant for it to be a question, but the way it comes out is as unbelievable fact.

Enjolras straightens a little, blinks and looks like he’s about to ask how Grantaire found that out, but then he feels Grantaire’s fingers tugging his own free from Grantaire’s shirt, and curling together. He glances down at their hands, takes a firmer grip on Grantaire’s, and smiles. “I kept hearing your voice in my head tearing apart all the articles I would have had to write.” 

“Sounds distracting,” Grantaire says around a grin. 

“You’ve been distracting from the start,” Enjolras agrees, eyebrows lifted a bit smugly while Grantaire laughs, the same laugh that Enjolras desperately liked the first time he heard it. 

“That means nothing coming from you,” Grantaire says, and before he means to, adds, “I stopped in my tracks when I saw you and only sat down to try to draw you.”

The looks on Enjolras’ face is beautiful. His head had started to tilt, but stilled and came back upright instantly, with widening eyes that hold shock and shy joy. Grantaire wishes he could draw him now, too, and tries to remember the expression. 

Enjolras’ nose and cheeks begin to flush. “You were drawing me?” And before he can get an answer, he gives a short, breathless sort of laugh. “That’s what you kept staring at me for.” 

Decidedly ignoring Enjolras’ awe, Grantaire tugs gently on their entwined fingers, as if testing that they’re not going to come apart. “Did I ever apologize for freaking you out?”

“We wouldn’t have met if you hadn’t.”

Grantaire can’t even make himself roll his eyes. He wasn’t actually sorry, anyway.

They stand there for a few moments longer, and let their foreheads rest together. Grantaire’s panic has disappeared, but he’s still a little scared. He’s been telling himself he’d never be worth it, for someone like Enjolras. But Enjolras gave up something he’s passionate about because it reminded him of Grantaire, and that was painful for him. And it was painful because he wanted Grantaire and couldn’t find him. He was hurting because Grantaire didn’t let himself believe in loving Enjolras, despite everything he’d said about believing in the person that you love. 

Running had seemed like all he could do. A few minutes ago, he could have run forever. 

Now he’d only run if it were toward Enjolras.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, after a minute. 

Enjolras’ response is to press in and kiss him. It’s only gentle, light, but he keeps their lips together as long as possible. When he pulls back, Grantaire chases him for more. He’d thought he’d remembered the feel of Enjolras’ lips, but he definitely had been remembering wrong, or not enough. He never wants to forget again.

They’re contentedly left like that for a while, exchanging kisses and, between them, Grantaire reveals how they could have found each other through Marius and Cosette if they hadn’t both been so stubborn and kept all the details to themselves. Enjolras, at hearing this, directs a dark glare in the direction of the groom until Grantaire distracts him again with his mouth, because he really doesn’t want to look around to see how many people are still watching them. 

Grantaire has to reluctantly break away from Enjolras when it’s time for Cosette’s bridal party to deliver their speeches and he’s called up. He tries not to, but the eight-minute long thing of elegance he’d practiced days ago is wiped from his mind, and becomes a four-minute ramble that’s actually more heartfelt anyway. It is clear, though, since his gaze keeps shifting to Enjolras in the crowd, and his words are so fast, that he just wants to go back to his Apollo. When his speech comes to an end, he goes to hug an emotionally crying Cosette, who laughs into his ear, “Your turn next,” and Grantaire practically rolls his eyes out of his skull. But he gives her a squeeze for it.

Apparently, they find out later, when Enjolras and he have settled themselves at a table with a few of Marius’ other ushers, someone had video recorded their entire chase and kissing with a phone. Enjolras seems about to protest, but Graintaire’s own phone lights up with the video contained in a message from Cosette, so it’s already been spread far and wide. And Grantaire knows Enjolras has to see the entirely ridiculous grin that takes over his whole face. When he glances up from the video, Enjolras is watching discreetly over his shoulder with incredible warmth behind his eyes, but still throws murderous looks toward Courfeyrac. 

“I’m keeping this forever,” Grantaire tells Enjolras teasingly as the video finishes. Enjolras frowns, but that warmth in his expression doesn’t leave, and Grantaire has a feeling Enjolras would protest if he actually tried to delete it. 

As it gets closer to the time for Marius and Cosette to depart for their honeymoon – in a horse-drawn carriage, of _course_ – a hush settles over all of the guests, because Cosette stands up, drawing everyone’s complete attention to her gorgeous smile. Or, at least, most of everyone’s attention. She gets all the attention Grantaire can give her while simultaneously leaning into the hand that Enjolras has rested on his lower back, fingers brushing bare skin where he’s pushed up Grantaire’s shirt a little. 

Cosette motions for Marius to join her, and when the two are standing together, she picks up a padlock from the table behind them, then holds it between the two of them. They murmur quietly to each other as Cosette writes on the front first, then passes a marker to Marius so he can write on the back of it. When they show each other what they’ve written, even though the crowd has no idea what it says, everyone gushes over the couple when Cosette surges into Marius’ arms and kisses him so hard he has to take several steps back to regain his balance, never breaking from her. 

Grantaire glances sideways at Enjolras when the couples in the crowd are all prompted to take one of the padlocks from a table and exchange promises with each other. He sees Courfeyrac behind Enjolras, walking toward the bridge with a boy wearing a flower crown, holding hands and a lock between them. 

Enjolras is looking at the padlocks in a considering way. When he reaches and picks one up, he turns his head to find Grantaire’s lips, drawing him close. The two of them ignore the happy quips and catcalls around them, and break apart for Enjolras to breathe against Grantaire’s mouth, “You made the first promise, so here’s mine.”

Grantaire wants to say that he almost didn’t keep that promise. He tried to run from that promise. 

But he nods and watches Enjolras use his teeth to uncap a marker, and watches the words appear on the lock. 

_**If you’ll believe in me, I’ll believe in you.**_

“Because I’m in love with you,” Enjolras tells him, softly. 

Grantaire believes. He believes so, so much. He all but drags Enjolras back to where their first lock is, and lets the reality flood through him as they clip it into place with all the other couples. 

The first promise happened, and he only believed in it for one night. 

This one, he’s going to believe for the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may come back to this 'verse sometime in the future, but for now, this is the end. Hope you enjoyed it!!!!!!!!


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